Tag: ice

“Then There Were Two”

Early on this cold-bright morning, in readiness for a forest drive, Jackie scraped ice off the car windscreen through which

figures along the Milford-on-Sea promenade were silhouetted against the sky above the Isle of Wight.

Alongside Pilley’s Bull Hill cattle occupied the moorland

where, on the road to Beaulieu, sheet ice cracked its waterlogged surface.

Black-hued moorhens sought sustenance on one bank of Little

Hatchet Pond, while a white, reflected, egret waited, poised to dive from the other;

as I prepared to picture three cormorants engaged in similar activity on the main branch of the lake, one flew off.

As Jackie said “then there were two”.

Ponies wandered among the burnt gorse at East Boldre, where mossy

branches were reflected in another winterbourne pool.

This afternoon I watched the Six Nations rugby match between Scotland and Ireland.

Dinner this evening consisted of Jackie’s delicious chicken and vegetable stewp and fresh crusty bread, with which I drank Château Les Fermenteaux Bordeaux 2021.

Spooked Deer

Despite the bright blue sky’s sunny aspect this was one of the coldest of either this year or the last; we therefore wrapped up well after Jackie had scraped ice off the windscreen and, with enough of the surface rain seeped off the roads, set off splashing on a forest drive in the middle of the afternoon.

With ice having formed on its pools,

and snow visible on the hilly land beyond the five-barred gate,

it was apparent that someone had sped home with cold feet – or at least one.

With her blessing I converted this picture Jackie produced of the ice into an abstract monochrome.

The pool along Forest Road reflected the weather.

Jackie also photographed mistletoe and

the stream along the Hightown road which had been one of the floods which had turned us back a few days ago as it surged across the road.

Further along this lane as I was trying to assess whether I would be able to photograph a troop of deer near the top of a hill, they were

suddenly spooked, and helpfully came dashing down to be well within my range, if somewhat obscured by a wooden fence. Jackie added the fourth picture in this gallery.

It had been two dogs rushing backwards and forwards on the other side of the wire fence, no doubt seeking a gap allowing them to reach their prey. A horse and rider came into view. No doubt they were protecting their land from feared cervine ravages.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s cottage pie, cauliflower, carrots, runner beans , and red cabbage, with which she drank Diet Coke and I drank more of the Shiraz.

A Frosty Morning

We woke this morning to a layer of frost.

I wrapped up well and wandered around the garden.

This afternoon, having deiced the car windows, Jackie drove me to Southampton General Hospital for my cystoscopy undertaken to check the result of my BCG instillations. The procedure was performed efficiently and in a friendly manner; the result was given to me immediately – it demonstrated that the tumour has not returned. The after effects are minimal. A next round of vaccine instillation will begin in three months time.

Later, we dined on Mr Pink’s excellent fish and chips with pickled onions and gherkins.

Autumn In Winter

On a digit-tingling icy cold morning, where the surface of every water container reflected bright sunshine

I took a brief walk around the garden where the seed heads of cordyline Australis accompanied new buds of rhododendrons;

resilient ornamental grasses vied with spent hydrangeas;

columns of shadows including those of a stout rose stem on the orange shed door and a string of small watering cans against the kitchen wall decorated flat areas.

Lichen lingered on sculptures of Summer and Autumn somewhat out of season.

This evening we all dined on spicy piri-piri chicken and Jackie’s savoury rice with which she finished the sauvignon blanc and I finished the cabernet carménère.

A Roll In The Leaves

On another sunny, bright, and cold day a brisk morning foray into a garden somewhat

iced up, as on the surface of this water-filled trug,

revealed our model pig celebrating his escape from crushing by the recently fallen tree by casting his shadows across the patio paving.

On the rooftop, the jackdaws are vociferously laying their customary claim to nesting rights in the disused chimney pots.

This afternoon we took a forest drive to Bisterne Close and back.

The decorated post box in Wootton Road now celebrates New Year.

The water-filled woodland as we turn into the close reflected the low sun peering through the trees.

The woodland floor is now dry enough to crackle the leaves, yet still fresh enough for mossy roots.

Ponies wandered freely;

one enjoyed a roll in the leaves, rising in the usually ungainly fashion and wandering off, oblivious of the coat of leaves it now wore.

I spotted Jackie photographing the woodland some distance off and only later realised that she was intrigued by wondering how this hollowed trunk could remain standing.

More sunlight reflections bounced from the icy surface of the close’s seasonal pool.

This evening we all dined on Jackie’s tasty beef pie; boiled new potatoes; crunchy carrots; firm cauliflower and broccoli, and thick, meaty, gravy with which the Culinary Queen finished the Spanish rosado and I drank Carménère Reserva Privada 2022

Investigation By Spiders

After lunch, tempted into the garden by the sunshine, still keeping ice

in containers like this pot saucer, fingers tingling, I took a brief walk around with my camera.

Many of the camellias were either in bloom or bud,

while the Japanese anemones bore seed pods apparently investigated by spiders.

Backlit cordyline Australis bore drips of precipitation.

The Gazebo bore the clematis Cirrhosa “Freckles”.

The dead stumps along the Back Drive and sculpture Florence were picked up in sidelight.

Later, I dozed through the first two episodes of Lucy Worsley’s Russian Romanovs.

This evening we all dined on tempura, and hot and spicy, prawns; tempura vegetables and spring rolls on Jackie’s colourful vegetable rice, with which I drank more of the shiraz and the Culinary Queen drank Mezquiriz Rosado 2023

In Need Of Milking

Martin’s cementing material was frozen in the bags this morning which he consequently spent

cutting out the shapes he would not be able to firmly set in place until Sunday.

Note the ice chips on the covered paving.

Ellie, who has now mastered the art of hand to mouth coordination,

was mesmerised by the open fire.

Martin told me that the roadsides were festooned with icicles formed by the showers of spray thrown up by vehicles during Monday’s deluge. Jackie and I therefore took a trip to investigate.

Some years ago now, a teenage girl was killed in a car crash along Hordle Lane.

Some soft toys still linger in the trees in her memory. One had fallen among the icicles by the roadside.

Further icicles and ice patterns decorated the corner of Woodcock Lane and Silver Street

along which these wintry decorations dangled from trees, draped verges along which they were reflected in the gutters, and rose from grasses on stumps.

We drove along Bashley Cross Road to Ferndene Farm shop to buy some eggs. A fallen branch bore dripping icicles.

Sway Road hosted various ice sculptures reflected in the gutters,

some dripping from a fence post like the udders of a cow in need of milking.

Further along this road autumn red-gold merged with winter’s snow-white.

This evening we dined on bangers and mash; fried bacon, tomatoes and mushrooms; boiled carrots, Brussels sprouts, and cauliflower, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Coonawarra Shiraz 2020.

Are You Skating On Thin Ice?

Ronan from Tom Sutton Heating visited today. He confirmed that we had taken all reasonable steps to reactivate our boiler, but that the capacitor needed replacing. He had ordered the part, which would not be delivered until Monday. He will fit it that evening

Ian, as already arranged, came to collect Flo, Dillon, and Ellie for a weekend at Southbourne. We will make use of their heater while they are away.

Now, on a bright, sunny, day with temperatures never rising above freezing where is the warmest place available to us? You have guessed it. The Modus.

We spent the early part of the afternoon unsuccessfully attempting to resuscitate the immersion heater, then took a ride in the car.

We needed to go no further than the largely icebound Hatchet Pond

where we stayed until just before the early sunset.

The pair of swans and their cygnets stayed on the edge of the lake.

Despite the sign set up by the Forestry Commission “Are you skating on thin ice?”, and the news of the deaths of four boys in Solihull succumbing to cardiac arrests from the shock of falling into icy water a few days ago,

one man, joined by a walker and a dog, skated up and down the Hatchet Moor section of the pond,

while a young family played on the shallows of the main body of water,

and a group of teenagers walked across it. Had the youngsters been here in the summer they would have been warned of the lethal currents in the depths of this pond.

A woman who remonstrated to no avail with the parents of the family, explained to us that her son was a fireman who had often been one who pulled dead bodies out of the water.

This evening we dined on the last of the left-overs. Jackie’s choice was the beef and the Bolognese, mine the curry.

Frozen Stone

It has been our coldest night of the year. Our boiler is still not working, and the next service appointment has been deferred until 19th January. I made a further call today and secured a visit for tomorrow morning.

We have a couple of plug in radiators and a fan heater. Strategically distributed, and with extra layers of clothing, they will have to do.

As shown by these leaves embedded in the ice of a frozen fountain, when Martin began working today the temperature outside was -6C.

He uses the stone he attempted to pick up to provide a slope for his wheelbarrow regularly transported to and from the stacks of material on the back drive. This was frozen to the ground.

A fulcrum was required in order for him to prise it loose.

The aggregate providing the next level was wheeled in the barrow

and tipped out ready for

compacting with a machine designed for the purpose.

Before applying the compactor, the material frozen solid in its bags had to be decompressed with a pickaxe and

being shovelled into the barrow. Martin kept this up all morning.

This evening we dined on Red Chilli’s excellent takeaway fare, each couple on trays in their respective sitting rooms heated by an electric radiator. My main meal was Lamb Dhansak, Jackie’s, Sag Chicken; we shared mushroom rice and a plain paratha.

Santa’s Float

On another cold, albeit slowly brightening, day Jackie and I took a forest drive just after 11 a.m.

Autumn leaves flocking on the still, silent, surface of Pilley’s icy lake will need a thaw before they begin their slow, rocking descent to the bed beneath.

Sage green lichen clung to branches

and decorated damp ivy coated trunks;

lesser limbs became embedded;

spectral skaters scraped converging rimy streaks across the frozen water,

while shaggy Shetland ponies quietly grazed.

The majority of this stubby little herd had rectified their recent absence from Bull Hill

which they now shared with curious cattle.

This bovine fixed me with a customary stare, then turned and

crossed the road. I tried not to take it personally.

Lymington River is tidal and therefore not frozen, and able to ripple and reflect the weak sunshine and Santa’s float.

In an effort to reorganise her fridge and larder, the Culinary Queen produced a varied menu for this evening consisting of left over helpings of my Susan’s chicken, of Shelly’s beef stew, one of her own earlier penne Bolognaise dishes from the freezer. She and I opted for the Bolognese while the others enjoyed some of everything. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Cabernet Sauvignon.